


Snowdrops

by pixie_rings



Series: Let Love Grow [4]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Snowdrops mean hope, fluffy fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snowdrops are Jack’s favourite flowers, and Bunnymund thinks he deserves something special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowdrops

Bunnymund was grateful for his thick fur against the cold chill of a February dawn. His nose twitched at the air as he poked his head out of his tunnel. The scent was fresh and clean, pure, and so very familiar he couldn’t help but smile. The air smelt like Jack.

He should have been down in the Warren, painting away, preparing the millions of eggs necessary for his holiday. But today… it was different. He had something he wanted to do, something special, and it was important that he do it, at least to himself.

He leapt from his tunnel, shaking himself briskly and enjoying the crackle of cold on the tips of his whiskers and fur. He felt soft snow beneath his paws, the powdery kind Jack hated, because it had no sticking power. “Makes the worst snowballs,” he’d said, poking at it with his staff.

Bunnymund chuckled to himself and slowly made his way through the woods Jack haunted, keeping a weather eye out for the winter spirit himself and admiring the silvery delicacy of frost on a winter’s morning. He couldn’t be caught doing this, because, on the one hand, he’d never live it down, and on the other, he wanted it to be a surprise. But he could be very stealthy when he wanted to be, silent as slumbering spring, and he had his ears and nose. If Jack _was_ to try and sneak up on him, he would have heard him a mile off.

Finally, he reached Jack’s lake (it wasn’t really a _lake_ , though, Jack always laughed, more a glorified pond), and nodded to himself. Yes, here would do nicely.

A while ago, Bunnymund had shown Jack his immense flower garden, neat and perennial with a thousand different colours, a rainbow of flora. Bunnymund had begun one of his many tangents, pointing out the rare and extinct ones. Flowering weeds were given equal place, their blooms just as pretty as any rare orchid’s, and they all coexisted happily in the ever-spring of the Warren. Jack had wandered through the beds, careful not to touch any delicate blooms lest he freeze them, until he’d reached something small and white.

He’d crouched and smiled, daring to touch its candid petals. “This is my favourite,” he’d said.

Bunnymund had loped up to him. “Snowdrop,” he’d remarked. It had made such sense.

Well, now came a chance to do something for Jack. Something special, something that showed how he felt.

Choosing the shore of the lake, Bunnymund cleared some snow with a huge foot. He tapped the ground with it, ever-so-gently. His intent wasn’t to create a tunnel, but to gauge the fertility of the soil. He crouched down, caressing the small bare patch of earth with his paws, brow furrowed in concentration before he broke into a smile. Yes, here would do nicely.

With a rough tap of his foot, the earth boomed and the snow scattered in a flurry of diamonds. Reaching into the leather bag slung across his shoulders, he pulled out several small bulbs. They looked even tinier in his large paws, and he carefully scooped the soil out, warming it with his touch for their arrival. He’d chosen the best he could find, the ones with the purest white petals and the softest green leaves. The daintiest, hardiest blooms in his collection.

It didn’t take long to plant them, even though there were about fourscore of them. They seemed quite happy to be in the ground, settling in in their little way that only Bunnymund could feel. They liked it here, in their own little patch in Jack’s woods.

Placing his paws on the ground, Bunnymund hummed to himself. He didn’t often use such a trick – he never needed to, Spring followed him wherever he went, skipping after his own footsteps, and he was happy to let her do her own thing. But today was different, and a little nudge to make them bloom early and last longer wouldn’t hurt anyone. A green thumb was a fun power to have.

With a sigh Bunnymund could feel in his bones, the plants multiplied under his touch, making an even larger bed than before. And to the tune of his humming, they began to grow, warily at first, and then bursting through the soil, gladly rising towards the pallid winter sunlight, not yet opened. They’d know when to do that themselves.

Taking great care, he backed away, admiring his handiwork. Already it looked rather pretty, the bright little flowers standing out against the drab backdrop of the sleeping woods.

“I’m counting on you,” he murmured to them, and they hummed in return as he bounded away.

.

Jack landed on a branch, not even bothering to cover his mouth as he yawned. The day had been rather successful, if he did say so himself, and Toronto was all the prettier for it. As he alighted on the surface of his lake, he didn’t even notice anything different. He was too tired, and all he bothered to do was curl up among the boulders and fall right asleep.

He only noticed them in the morning. He crawled from the niche where he rarely slept these days – ah, Bunnymund’s nest was just too comfortable – and ran a hand through his hair, yawning and stretching and shivering pleasantly in the frost-tinged air. It was then that he noticed them. They hadn’t been there the day before, and in all his long, long life he’d never seen them.

He glided over, and he couldn’t stop his face from cracking into a smile. A great carpet of snowdrops lay at his feet, their petals hanging pure white and delicate in the pale morning air, crisp with a delicate dusting of frost they seemed to shake off easily as if it were nothing more than dew.

“Well, you’re new,” he muttered, kneeling down and caressing the tiny things with the lightest touch he was capable of. Underneath the crackle of frost they were silky and smooth, adorable little things. “Gee, I _wonder_ how you got here!” he added, in a much louder voice with a very fake thoughtful look.

He heard a rustle, obviously intentional, and he waited patiently for a familiar silhouette to appear among the trees. A throat was cleared with what sounded like embarrassment, and Jack chuckled.

“As if I wouldn’t know it was you,” he said, mock-accusingly. Bunnymund approached, arms folded and yes, looking decidedly embarrassed, if the backwards tilt of his ears was anything to go by, and hunkered down beside Jack.

“I knew you’d know it was me,” he muttered. “Wanted it to be a surprise, though.”

Jack beamed at him, which just made his ears twitch and if he could have blushed, he would have. The winter spirit leaned against him, burying his face in the thick, soft fur of Bunnymund’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “They’re beautiful.”

Bunnymund smiled, winding his arm around Jack’s shoulders and holding him tightly against his side. He bent over, rubbing his chin against Jack’s hair and nuzzling.

“You’re welcome.”


End file.
